One
by Grim Lupine
Summary: Erik gasps out loud, a jarring sound that comes out almost a sob, and he can't do it, he can't listen any longer; all he can do is steel himself and reach out with a *Charles*. There isn't even a pause. /CharlesErik/


Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.

Notes: Written for the "Let's get gay married!" commentfic meme on LJ, for the prompt: "Erik misses Charles's voice in his head, the moment he takes off the helmet the first words he hears are Charles's urgent, desperate proposal."

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><p>If it's this bad for <em>Erik<em>, he can't image what it must feel like for Charles—a hole cut inside his head, perhaps; the absence of something vital, an indescribable loss.

Before, Erik had always been able to hold onto the words _You're not alone_, because he knew that with one mental stretch, Charles would be right there. Charles was always there, sliding into his mind as if it was where he belonged, a warm presence that Erik would sometimes wish he could allow himself to get lost in.

When they were in bed, Erik would put his hand over Charles's lush mouth and kiss the corner of his eye, would say, "_Tell_ me," and Charles's lips would move beneath his hand and Erik would say, "No, like this," and then Charles would hold his eyes and breathe in and be in his mind, just like that: _I love you, please, touch me, I can't hold back, Erik I want this, I could make you, don't let me make you, tell me you want this too, kiss me again, kiss me forever, I don't know what I'm doing, I want everything from you_

and Erik would remove his hand and kiss him until they thought they might die from it, and die the happiest they'd ever been.

Sometimes it felt like they were thinking as one.

They did this again and again until Charles had carved himself a home inside Erik's head

until Erik felt more whole than he ever had before

until it grew so that they could spend an entire day together and never speak a word aloud

until Erik said, "You could. Make me, I mean," and brushed away Charles's instinctive protests with his sure hands until Charles shuddered, acquiesced, blinked and inhabited Erik's mind so thoroughly that Erik had no choice but surrender, and he could move only when Charles allowed it, and all he could do was think _Yes_

until Erik could forget for a time, could forget that he could not have this forever

until the day when he slipped a helmet on and threw Charles out of his mind like he'd never been there at all.

And now there is no one in Erik's head but Erik himself, and he can't abide the sound of his own thoughts. He'd known what he was doing when he shut Charles out, but he hadn't known _this_—hadn't known what would come afterward, hadn't known that the loneliness would settle in him until it was like dragging around another limb. He'd spent most of his life alone before Charles, after all; how much could one man change him, he'd thought it would hurt but he'd get past it, he hadn't _known_.

When Erik looks in the mirror, his hair has gone gray and there are creases at the corners of his eyes. He looks tired. He looks like—

(there are decisions you make in a half-second, like a kiss or a gunshot or

or the lifting of a helmet from your head and it's like)

—like he's waiting for something he's been looking for for years, and with metal in his hands he feels Charles for the first time in so long, like Charles has been looking too, has never stopped, is always searching for Erik, because he's _right there_ and Erik hears:

_You won't even hear this but I have to say it anyway, it's too much to keep inside of me, it has to come out; come home, Erik, come home, come back to me. Why do I do this, I miss you, I need you here, my bed feels too big without your head on my shoulder and your body around mine, we could have made it work, we can still make it work Erik Erik I have to keep doing this because one day you might hear me, and I will keep waiting for that day, Erik._

And Erik can see the visions flickering in Charles's mind, the two of them old and worn and happy with it, waking slowly together in the sunlight, kissing with the lack of urgency only possible when you know you have forever for it; Charles's mouth pressing soft kisses on Erik's throat, Erik's hand clasped in Charles's. They are wearing rings, and Erik turns it on Charles's finger without touching it, then strokes the curve of it with his thumb, and Charles smiles at him with the world in his eyes.

_I would marry you_, come the words, mournful. _I would keep you forever, wear your ring, I would let no one else have you, you would be mine and I would want no one but you. I want no one but you even now. We could be happy._

Erik gasps out loud, a jarring sound that comes out almost a sob, and he can't do it, he can't listen any longer; all he can do is steel himself and reach out with a _Charles_.

There isn't even a pause.

It's as if Charles has only been waiting for this, barely holding himself back, and Erik's voice touching him broke him free of the last of his fetters. Charles floods Erik's mind without another word, without even asking, but it's all right because he knows, he _must_ know that Erik's body, his mind, everything within him is crying out _Yes_.

Yes to all of Charles's questions, voiced and unvoiced, yes to the vision of the future-that-could-be that he holds dear, yes to the things he wants from Erik, yes to his mind, his presence, yes to _Charles_. Yes to everything, all of it, whatever he wants of him.

_Oh_, Charles gasps within his mind, warm joy bubbling forward until it seeps under Erik's skin, and Erik realizes he is on his knees, but that is distant because all he can feel throughout is Charles, Charles's love for him, Charles sliding back inside Erik's mind where he belongs.

_Erik_, Charles sends him, and it's shattering how much is wrapped up in that one word.

_Wait for me_, Erik thinks, and Charles answers, _Always_, and Erik laughs, wipes his cheeks dry, rises to his feet.

Charles is with him, and Erik thinks: _I'm coming home_.


End file.
